Trust
by wolfofsummerbreeze
Summary: Matthew is trying to understand this strange growing... thing between him and Jaffar. He'd like to say it's driving him crazy but reality might just be more incomprehensible. Slash. Rated M for themes.
1. Revelation

No sense. It made no sense. They should not be like this. _He _should not be like this… and yet…

When Leila had died he had been both devastated and determined. Kill him. Live for that. Don't let them know.

He had tried.

He had failed… and yet he was also close to revenge. Nergal was truly responsible. He knew that now, had opened his ears, had let himself understand the man who had killed her. He wondered what Nergal's face would look like when his Angel of Death helped take his life.

And that was just the thing wasn't it? Because he would be there next to Jaffar, next to Eliwood, and maybe next to Nino or someone else for they had personal interest in this.

Next to Jaffar.

He had become an assassin to kill Jaffar. He knew he wouldn't stand much of a chance as a thief. Legault hardly needed a fell contract anyway, and it wasn't like Matthew couldn't live without opening locks.

In the end it wasn't going to be to kill Jaffar that he was glad he had used the Fell Contract. He had given up his chance…

And the world had not destroyed itself.

Somewhere along the line Serra, Guy, and Hector had helped in their mundane reactions… in their living. Serra nagged, annoyed, flirted, and worried. Guy yelled, challenged, and amused. Hector condescended, got irritated, and amused as well. They distracted… but they also healed.

It wasn't just them. He had grown close to others… more people then he realized. Legault, through him Heath and Nino, Lyn, Wil, Dart, Florina, Lucius, Geitz even. Some were closer than others.

In his single mindedness he hadn't realized it at all. Hadn't realized he wasn't acting after a while. Hadn't realized.

Stupid.

He was stupid.

In his goal to kill Jaffar he had to get closer to him. To Jaffar. They had grown close. Not in words… but in actions.

It had started out… stupidly. A whim. Deal with those who try to get at Legault or get in his way. Quite a few mages, so Heath stayed back.

It worked well. Too well. Matthew at first disliked the idea of being a good team with Jaffar… but it got him closer.

Foolish. Silly.

Leila would smack him.

He should have learned. A man who cared so much for a young girl that he would risk death. A man who was slowly, painfully, learning how to feel. Icy on the outside, frigid, but inside was a small spark. Painful, to finally see that this man had never truly felt before. Matthew had watched. Watched and asked. Was this the man who killed Leila? A man who now was almost hesitant to kill? Did he see a Nino behind every face he slaughtered now?

Matthew… felt.

Guilt.

A man who hadn't had a chance to live yet. He felt for this man. Sympathized. Maybe even cared for.

On some level he wanted to help. To teach. To show a cold blooded killer even more about life. To show him joy. Somehow he had a feeling Leila would be proud of that…

But he couldn't. He had drawn his line. He could not erase it, not even after finally accepting Leila's death, finally accepting the true killer.

And yet… he also held on to a small bit of hate. This man had Leila's blood on his hands.

In the end, when all was said and done, Matthew gave up on metaphysical action and decided to pay attention. His thoughts could not sort out how he felt. He could only interact; only do what he had unconsciously been doing since her death.

And so he watched.

What he found surprised him.

They were a good team. Very good. Insanely good at times. Matthew wanted to understand how. Understand why.

They had been returning to Serra, the mission that Mark sent them on completed with minor injuries. The battlefield was easy to watch from their path. His eyes had drunk it in. Analyzing. Dissecting.

He found his answer in the way Eliwood shielded Ninian. He saw it in Hectors eyes and he smashed through the archer aiming for Florina. He watched as the calm monk Lucius' eyes flashed in determination as his magic tore through the enemies bearing down on Raven. It was in the way Lyn and Rath moved, so in synch, so painfully reminiscent, as they pierced through their foes. It was etched in to Erk and Guy as they stood shielding Serra and Priscilla respectively. Matthew had seen it before in the ease in which Legault and Heath worked. It had shown in the way Canas guided Nino through her first skirmishes. He had envied it, the bond Kent and Sain had always displayed: the bond that let them face any odds next to each other. Those bonds…

The way Jaffar would anticipate and move so he could attack. The way he would block incoming blades when Matthew could not dodge them. The way Matthew himself moved in for the kill before Jaffar was hit. The way that they could understand another without words, moving together easily. It was reflected to him on that battlefield.

It was Trust.


	2. Contemplation

He should not be nervous. Or, well… not this nervous.

It was just an apology. He wasn't entirely sure he had really done anything wrong that he should apologize for except… he had misunderstood.

If he could communicate this without words he would. They had such a history of bad words. Why was there no adequate body language for 'I was a jerk and I'm sorry and I want to try to be your friend because I want to destroy the man that killed Leila without killing him and watching you become human makes me feel…'

Matthew stopped pacing, confused.

How did he describe that feeling? It was happy, sure, but more than that it was…

…it was…

"You look like you're trying to glare enlightenment out of that tree."

Matthew did not jump. He might have bitten his tongue enough that he almost made a pained noise but Legault did not need to know that.

Stupid Legault being so silent. If this wasn't an on-going thing of 'who can sneak up on the other the most' he would castrate the man. He might be doing Heath a favor.

"It's obviously denying me infinite wisdom and knowledge." He shot back as he spun to face the roguish man.

Legault raised his eyebrow sardonically. "Well maybe if you didn't threaten it, it would be nicer?" Matthew rolled his eyes, too frustrated with his thoughts to be amused. Legault, of course, noticed said lack of amusement. "But since it bothers you so much perhaps you can ask me and I'll ask the tree."

Matthew glowered at the man. Legault might be crafty and not above using blackmail or teasing but he could also be very understanding. Matthew did not want to tell the man that he was going to tell Jaffar he was sorry, there was too much unpredictability in the purple haired thief. He didn't trust Legault that much.

But he trusted Jaffar.

He huffed and crossed his arms, annoyed with himself. And it's not like he was going to ask Legault how to describe what it felt like to watch Jaffar become… something.

He was so irritated. Why couldn't he simply… do this? What kind of power did Jaffar have over him?

"Hey, hey, hey!" Matthew dragged his eyes up from the forest floor where they had fallen. "Jeeze, this is _serious_ isn't it? Only that would have you in such a mood." Matthew stared over Legault shoulder, determinedly not meeting his eyes. Legault in turn crossed his arms and leaned back as if by doing so and looking Matthew over he could discern the problem. Hell, maybe he could.

"What is it?" Matthew did not answer.

The noise of camp rang though the forest to them in their silence.

"Is it Jaffar?"

Matthew felt himself glare over his companion's shoulder a bit harder. He suddenly knew that he had involuntarily tensed and probably gave himself away.

"Ah, that's it isn't it?" Legault pulled off a wise look that did not really suit him. "He does seem to be the only one who can rile you up like this. Have you not forgiven him yet?"

Matthews's eyes snapped to Legault's. Shock vibrated inside him. He pressed his lips together, contemplating, and then opened them.

"I have." Legault rocked back on his heels, perfectly balanced, a move Matthew envied him for.

Tilting his head Legault considered him some more. "Have you told him?"

Matthews silence was damning. Legault smirked at him. "I'll drag Nino away. You'll owe me one though."

Matthew's eyes narrowed. "One what?"

Laughing at him with his eyes the thief shook his head. "Nothing major. Maybe a night in the tent to myself and any company I wish to choose. Maybe distracting someone so I can get alone time with their companion. Simple, right?"

Matthew sighed and resisted the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose. "Fine."


	3. Reflection

The man who threatened him at knifepoint was completely different from the unsure figure that walked into his camp. Matthew wouldn't meet his eyes and took the place across from the campfire, obviously trying to put distance between them. Still, he had come. Jaffar would give him the time he needed, after all, Jaffar needed time as well.

Jaffar had a lot of time to think lately. The first thing he thought about was Nino, how she had made him feel alive, draw him out into the sunlight. Yet, as warm as the sunlight is, Jaffar found himself drawn to something even warmer. Matthew. Matthew was like fire. Too close, and you'll get burned. While Nino had shown him how normal people are happy, Matthew had shown him more. Matthew showed him rage, anger, and sadness. However, over time that fire had burned out. Matthew had become unsure once he had failed to kill Jaffar.

Working with him had been awkward at first. Awkward, but good. He trusted Matthew, trusted him because he had already passed his opportunity. Trusted him because he had been at his most vulnerable and Matthew had not taken advantage. Matthew hadn't known how to proceed after that. How he acted was like a skittish dog, wanting to be petted, but afraid of being hurt. He had no idea what they should talk about—not that Jaffar did either—so they managed with silence. Eventually Matthew relaxed. Jaffar was fairly sure Matthew didn't even realize it, but Matthew had dropped his guard completely around Jaffar.

And Jaffar had been watching Matthew a long time. Long enough to realize that the affection he felt for Nino was as nothing compared to the way he now felt when he looked at Matthew. It was new. It was scary. I made Jaffar turn away and flush, his breathing slightly hitching involuntarily, his throat feel dry. It made him want to stare and stare and stare. Honey colored eyes. Sharp jaw. Sandy hair he wanted to run his hands through. A pale column of flesh, hidden beneath fabric, that urged Jaffar to mar it with red. Strong shoulders that Jaffar's hands itched to rung his hands across. Across and down, into the swell of his back until it reached his waist. Matthew's waist made Jaffar want to grab it and tug their lips together, but Matthew's lips made him want to hear Matthew talk. Jaffar wanted to learn to talk to Matthew.

What Jaffar didn't let himself watch was Matthew's hands. Those hands made him think of them doing things; thing like, sliding, curling, grasping, pressing, pushing, twisting, pulling, and touching. Jaffar was afraid of even looking at them. They were dangerous hands.

The worst part was that he knew he had no right to Matthew. Kill Leila, take her place? As if it worked like that. Matthew hadn't forgiven him, and Jaffar didn't expect it.

The Matthew in front of him now was one who didn't know where to start whatever this conversation was going to be. Jaffar was at once both wary and hopeful, but he knew that if anything was going to be said he'd have to start it.

"Matthew."


End file.
